


An Evening At The Ladies' Historical Reading Society

by Relurker



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Dawn Summers is The Key, Exquisite Corpse, Gen, Little old ladies, Rasselas, surrealist nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relurker/pseuds/Relurker
Summary: Spike and Buffy get stuck in a very boring setting.





	An Evening At The Ladies' Historical Reading Society

**Author's Note:**

> In 2017 there has been a highly entartaining surrealist outburst over at Elysian Fields... so in 2018 we did it again! You can read the whole story at Elysian Fields: "Exquisite consequences" by yellowb, angelic_amy, bewildered, -Carrie-Ann-, Sunalso, OffYourBird, othellia, sandy_s, Behind Blue Eyes, relurker, thenewbuzwuzz, Sigyn, Fraggleshrew.  
> Each chapter begins with the phrase with which the previous one ended, without knowledge of what was actually happening, and that's why there isn't a proper beginning and a real ending. It's all just surrealist nonsense!  
> My starting point was: _The witch’s smile grew.  And so did the Void._

**An Evening At The Ladies' Historical Reading Society**

**by Relurker**

 

The witch’s smile grew.  And so did the Void.

Buffy was feeling a certain growing resentment toward the whole thing. Just then, an arm shot out of the previously empty space, grabbed Spike’s wrist and pulled him inside, and before Buffy could think of it, she’d impulsively gripped his other arm with both hands and was also pulled in it.  
The witch’s smile fell.

________________________

Spike’s eyes opened wide. He was sitting upright in a chair while a fireplace was cheerily crackling on the side of the quaint, old-fashioned room. A few ladies were sitting around in flowing gowns and lace trimmed caps, some knitting, some sewing by candlelight. His sight landed on the young miss sitting, or better hunched in apparent distress in a small chair by the wall farthest from the fireplace: it was Buffy! Their eyes met, and he was marginally reassured by her being in the same place. A log shifted with some noise, and he realized that the ladies were looking at him expectantly.

“Ahem”, said one. Spike was painfully aware that he didn’t know what to do.

“Is something troubling you, dear Mr. Pratt? Shall we ring for Molly to light up another candle?”

“No, I…” Spike was surprised to find an open book in his hands. “Thank you, the light is fine.”

“If you’ve had enough of reading for tonight, we’ll certainly let you rest your voice, but please promise you’re going to be so kind as to read for us tomorrow, too, the book does come alive in your recitation.” There was a chorus of ‘yes, indeed’, and ‘so true’ all around. They were in an overstuffed, cozy parlour, with elderly and gentle looking ladies. He saw Buffy looking bewildered, lifting gingerly an embroidery hoop from her lap, as if expecting it to bite, her own dress long and voluminous. There wasn’t a sign or a hint of evil anywhere that he could spot, so Spike decided to give them both some time to get their bearing.   “ _It is scarcely possible_ ” he read, “ _that two travelling through the world under the conduct of chance should have been both directed to the same path, and it will not often happen that either will quit the track which custom has made pleasing.  When the desultory levity of youth has settled into regularity_ …” He kept on reading, the ladies kept on with their various works, Buffy settled more easily in her chair. He recognized the text as one his mother had been very fond of, but alas no, she wasn’t in this small company. Not a familiar face between them, and save for being clearly a setting of his own lifetime, he didn’t think he was ever in this room before. Not only had his speech and clothes reverted to that time, but his thoughts were getting boringly shaped, too! He needed to get himself and Buffy out of there, stat. He stood, startling the ancient lady at his right who had been lulled into napping by the not so much riveting tale of Rasselas. “So! Um. A really hot evening, is it? I think I’d like to take a breathe of fresh air, if you’ll pardon me, madams, and, um, would you please join me for a turn in the garden, Miss…Miss Summers?”

The ladies exchanged surprised glances, hummed and hawed a little, but put no outward objections to his sudden scheme. They did advise ‘Miss Lizzy’ to put on her heavy shawl and be careful not to step off of the flagstones onto the damp grass, but in just another minute they were going out of the door to the garden.

_______________________________

Spike was sitting upright in his chair while the fireplace was cheerily crackling. The skinny lady with pink ribbons in her bonnet went, “Ahem.” Buffy was on the sofa with knitting needles, her face scrunched up in confusion.

Plump lady said: “My dear Mr. Pratt, I’m afraid the heat from the fireplace is too much for your comfort, let me put that screen up for you, and maybe light another candle so you can see the pages better”.

He sighed. “No need for a candle, I can read perfectly well…where were we? _‘The things that are now before us,’ said the Princess, ‘require attention, and deserve it.  What have I to do with the heroes or the monuments of ancient times—with times which can never return, and heroes whose form of life was different from all that the present condition of mankind requires or allows?’_ ”

He looked up at Buffy- _Miss Lizzy_ -and she had a thoughtful look on her face, too. Could the old novel be saying something useful? They needed to talk. “The heat is indeed very strong, would you mind if I was to take a walk in your garden, Mrs…’ it came to his mind as if it had always been there,’ Miss Havensham?”

“Why, of course, Mr. Pratt, please do take some fresh air, there are still quite a few white roses on the south wall…” Buffy stood up: “I’ll go with! I mean, Miss Havensham, I would really like to see your garden, may I go?”

After the same stilted minuet of shawls and recommendations, they stood again in front of the open door, but instead of going out, they sneaked into a kind of family cloakroom full of baskets and garden gear. Buffy turned on him in a snit, arms akimbo and cap slightly crooked, and asked: “Well?”

“What do you mean, well?”

“What is this?”

“How would I know?”

“Don’t play with me, Spike, I’ve got totally, absolutely nothing to do with this particular scene, while you were all Mr. Manners in there, didn’t you, _Mr. Pratt_?”

“All right, _Miss Bitchy_. So I know how to bloody act when in polite society, doesn’t mean I had anything to do with us being here. Wasn’t there some kind of _Void_? Do you remember it? It feels like that happened ages ago”. In the meantime, he was trying without much success to straighten up her cute frilly cap, and making like it wasn’t an excuse to pet her hair.

Buffy still wasn’t buying. “Maybe that… maybe it was a portal. Of sorts. Couldn’t have been an empty void if someone reached out to grab you, uh? But it can’t be a coincidence if this is so easy and familiar to _you_. It has to be something you did, and stop messing with my hair.”

“Suit yourself, Summers. See if I care when they make fun of you. These old ladies can be nasty. Did you see who grabbed me? Didn’t they grab you, too? You’re awfully quick to jump to conclusions were I’m concerned.”

“Nooo… There was an arm, just a common human arm-a woman’s- that took hold of you real quick, and pulled you. I just came along trying to keep you from disappearing, actually, silly me.”

“Oh, Buffyyy! You caaare…’ he sing-songed, ‘what kind of woman could it have belonged to, did you see any jewelry, tattoos?”

“Once more, Spike, with feeling: it happened _in a second_ , and as you know it was ages ago, and there weren’t tats or anything special, just… a really nice shade of nail polish, kinda translucent pearly sea foam with tiny sparkles. I think saw something like it the other day at the mall. You think the sparkles would be too much?”

She’d gone to the hall when she realized Spike was still standing there in his embroidered vest with his mouth open. “Are you coming or not? I’m sure there’s another exit we can try from the kitchen”.

He shook his head, muttered “ Women” and followed.

____________________________

Spike was sitting upright in his hard backed chair while the fireplace was cheerily crackling. He and Buffy exchanged a look of vexation. She was crocheting this time, something blue.

“Ahem ”, went Miss Pole, as usual. Miss Havensham started another convoluted suggestion as to why he should want another candle, so he read some more: “ _When the eye or the imagination is struck with any uncommon work, the next transition of an active mind is to the means by which it was performed.  Here begins the true use of such contemplation.  We enlarge our comprehension by new ideas, and perhaps recover some art lost to mankind, or learn what is less perfectly known in our own country.  At least we compare our own with former times, and either rejoice at our improvements, or, what is the first motion towards good, discover our defects.”_

_“I am willing,” said the Prince, “to see all that can deserve my search.”_

_“And I,” said the Princess, “shall rejoice to learn something of the manners of antiquity_.”

“Fresh air!”, Buffy exclaimed, standing up and moving toward the door. “Coming!” said Spike, following. They couldn’t escape the flabbergasted courtesies of the three ladies, but in good time they were back to the cloakroom. “I think the book is trying to tell us something” said Buffy, “ maybe it will tell us how to get out of here.”

“Yeah, right. Way it’s written, it will take me a year to read through it. And I didn’t even like it that much first time around”, he said ominously. Buffy arched a brow in question, but he just shook it off.

“Well, I don’t have a year to spend in a BBC special: my shoes are stupid, my dress is way heavy and itchy, and I’m wearing a friggin corset, for Pete’s sake!”

Spike was making bedroom eyes at her: “You know, Buffy, I could help you with that…”

This particular tone of voice of his had the power to make her foolish. Buffy sighed. “We should go back, see if there are any answers in the darn book”

“You’re telling me you would _rejoice to learn something of the manners of antiquity_?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, invading her personal space and running the back of his fingers along her neckline. Buffy suppressed a shiver. “The door is open”

“That can be fixed”, he said with a hungry look, jumping to close the door.

______________________________

Spike was sitting upright by the cheerily crackling fireplace. He’d lost count of the times they were returned to this bloody damn room. They could be in the drawing room, the hall or the cloakroom, provided no door was closed. Each time they went through a door to the outside, or tried to close a door behind them, the pantomime would start afresh. Buffy had been particularly frustrated when accessorized with a tiny loom and lots of colored threads, while Miss Pole was at her side helpfully giving her pointers—silently, so as not to disturb the reading. She’d stomped in the hall and complained: “Little old ladies! Why couldn’t have been demons? Or, or an ogre, or something I can hit? Riddles are not what I’m for! I’m the Slayer!”  Out the door and back again in his chair, the book was still waxing philosophical, no answers to be found, and the only real entertainment was seeing Buffy’s changeable implements. This time she had a maid’s frock on and was clearing away some tea stuff. Miss Pole said, “Ahem.”. Miss Havensham talked about candles. The other one was gently snoring. Spike ground his teeth, and read: “ _The state of a mind oppressed with a sudden calamity,” said Imlac, “is like that of the fabulous inhabitants of the new-created earth, who, when the first night came upon them, supposed that day would never return._ ” Buffy stuck out her tongue at him, and he made a face. Oppressed with a sudden calamity, indeed. He would take a sudden Fyarl invasion with joy over all this mincing about. “ _Distance has the same effect on the mind as on the eye; and while we glide along the stream of time, whatever we leave behind us is always lessening, and that which we approach increasing in magnitude.  Do not suffer life to stagnate: it will grow muddy for want of motion; commit yourself again to the current of the world._ ”

“Wait a minute,” said Buffy the maid, causing surprise and consternation between the ladies, “Wait. This sounds promising, I mean, if you please, misses, a... this is ridiculous! Come on Spike, they won’t remember any of it next time around!”

“Yeah, right: last time you didn’t play along, and look at you now. Where are your silks and laces?”

“I don’t give a fig about ‘my silks’!”

“But look, you made Miss Pole cry”

Buffy was chagrined. These ladies had all been nice and kind, and they seemed pretty innocent and clueless as to the situation, so shocking a fragile looking old lady into crying was not something she was proud of, whether they were real people or not. She gestured helplessly at the door and they stepped in the hall again. “You just read something about committing to the current of the world…”

“What do you make of it?”

“I think that until now we tried to get out of here, so, what if we stay instead, play the game, like-like read the whole book, or accept the dumb candle for example”

“Right then. I’ll ask for a whole chandelier next time. Let’s give it a try”.

Out the door they went, and Spike was sitting upright in his high backed chair, book in hand. Buffy was wearing a dark frock and tending to the fire, on her knees by the fireplace, shooting exasperated looks his way. The Miss Pole said “Ahem.”

Miss Havensham said “Oh my, the room has got pretty dim, don’t you think dear Mr. Pratt? Would you like me to light another candle to better see the page? I would hate it if your eyes got tired for giving us the pleasure of this story”

“Why, yes, Miss Havensham, if it’s not too much trouble?”

Buffy stood, made a little curtsey, and in perfect Gaskell style said “Please, ma’am, I’ll light a candle”, and so she did.

______________________________

They were in a kind of white area, normal clothes in place, and Dawn was there talking on a cell phone.

“Yes, I have them, they’re both here”

Buffy zeroed in on her nail polish, which was pale green and sparkly. She grabbed Dawn’s hand: “I knew I saw it before!”

“Hello to you too, Buffy.”

“Hey, don’t you dare ‘hello’ me, it was you that pulled us into that period room of extreme bore! What did you do that for?”

“You don’t remember what happened before? That’s very good! And I pulled Spike, not you. You going with made the spell go all wonky”

“Spell? Now you’re making spells? You are sooo grounded”

Spike thought it was high time he spoke: “Hey there, _Dawn_. Buffy, look at her. I mean, really look at her”

Dawn was subtly different. Something in the shape of her brow, a tiny mole on her cheek… she looked a bit older, and taller. Buffy was processing the info “Yeah, there are differences, but you _are_ Dawn, I’m not wrong on this”

“And thank God for good instincts.” said Dawn with her very own big smile, “I’m just a few possibilities removed from your current reality, but definitely your sister, anywhere and anytime, and also Spike’s friend. That’s why I did what I did, pulling him out of the starting point of a potentially catastrophic event. I would have pulled you too right after, but you stuck to him and made the transit dimension all weird. Those things are meant to be used by one person at a time.”

“Wait,’ said Spike, ‘so you thought it was a good idea to put me back then? Bloody hell, what a load of bollocks. And you say you’re my friend!”

“No! Wait, where were you? The transit place is just a place where you would feel safe and maybe sleep until you were ready to come back by pressing a button or going out the door or something. It’s a place conjured out of your mind, not mine.”

Buffy put a calming hand on the arm of the peeved vampire. “OK, I get it. Me, I was ready to fall asleep while standing after five minutes in that place. But what is the catastrophe? We both are confused about what happened before the… thing.  Do I have to go fight something apocalyptic?”

“No, you’re fine. We’re all fine. Potential averted. It would have influenced my reality as well as destroyed yours, so we consulted and decided to put a wrench in the works. The change will have affected both future and past, that’s why you can’t remember.”

“Consulted with whom? And since when are you using magic, Bit?”

This time the thousand watts smile was aimed his way. “Long time since you called me that. Sorry, but I can’t say anything more about my gang. My magic is the Key magic, though, and I have it in all realities: sometimes I have use for it, sometimes not.”

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked to clear her eyes.  Dawn yipped when her sister hugged her tight. “Dawnie…we won’t meet ever again, I guess?”

“No, you’re right. Every time realities mix, it’s like playing dice with nitroglycerin. You’ll go back to your world in a minute, and reality will be a little different. I don’t know how much of this you’ll remember, or how much of your reality will be different. Extreme times… you know how it goes.” Dawn’s eyes were very bright, too. “Now, you two. Hold hands, close your eyes, and when I say the word, you’ll be in your own place. _Bazinga_!”

____________________________

 

 

Chapter notes: All excerpt from Rasselas (1759), by Samuel Johnson


End file.
